PikeLane Hash House Harriers
Because Life’s Too Short to Drink Cheap Beer
Badges? We don’t need no stinkin badges!
Your 1999-2000 Mismanijmnt
Grand Master: Sky Pilot
Joint Master Niplets
and Mattress: Pull My String
Hash Cash: Afterbirth
Hareline: EZ Cheeks
Haberdashery: Rock Hudson
Bier Meisters: PV Semen
Master Scribe: Bite My Gonads
16 #709 Niplets
23 #710 Breaststroke & Butt Nutt
30 #711 Tripod, Ouch & Rat’s Ass present
The Quest for the Holy Grail Hash
7 #712 Ashtray & ?
14 #713 Lost Cause
21 #714 Grandma’s Johnson, Cigar Box &
28 #715 AH4 1000th
4 #716 Redneck Mutha & Ashtray
11 #717 Kaptain Krash
Marine Corps Birthday Hash
18 #718 Yuron Weed
25 #719 ???
Proclamations and Procrastinations from your Mismuddlement
F WANNA BE A HARE?: Please call EZ Cheeks (404-659-7273) to sign up to throw some flour. It’s not that hard, really just pick up the receiver, punch in the corresponding numbers on the keypad, and speak in a clear, loud voice into the mouthpiece. Of course, you may want to wait until someone or something actually answers the phone first.
F HASH TRASH: Hemingway, Thoreau, Afterbirth, Dickens, Emerson, Bite My Gonads all literary greats. You too can be revered, just by writing the trash. Contact Bite My Gonads at the hash or annoy him at home (404-964-8964) and he’ll gladly lend you his crayons.
Hares: Bitch w/an Attitude & Dribbles
Venue: Gwinnett Walk Shopping Ctr. Holcomb Bridge Road
It began as all other hashes began the vapid look of confusion, the quick finger-pointing of blame, dogs humping strangers’ legs, staple guns not being used for their intended purpose.
If only the rest of my life could be this predictable.
Our hares du jour promised a wild and wooly time, and we had no reason to doubt them. Okay, we had every reason to doubt them they’re hares, they lie.
“I’m a good little doggy!” proclaimed Dribbles as he and Bitch took off with their precious 5-minute head start and 43.7 lbs of flour. Meanwhile, the pack enjoyed tea and crumpets, while Uh Huh Baby provided rousing renditions of various show tunes. If only the rest of my life could be this predictable.
With the traditional utterance of “What in the Wide Wide World of Sports is going on out here,” Niplets declared the 2000 Olympic Games open, and we were off. Cheetah took the lead by sprinting down the middle of Holcomb Bridge Road, much to the delight of the many drivers who knew that a moving target was worth bonus points.
As for the trail itself well, who can remember. It was 2 weeks ago, and the full frontal lobotomy has diminished my memory a bit. I know there were woods and squirrels and trails and wombats and creek crossings and rabbits with sharp pointy teeth (no wait, that’s in 2 weeks).
True trail crossed over Peachtree Corners Circle, where, rumor has it, boxers were sighted running (gasp!) roads. Don’t you just love gated apartment communities that leave their gates wide open? Well, hashers do, and we did, much to the chagrin of the many onlookers who wondered, out loud no less, "Muffy, who let those hooligans out in the croquet area?”
The snares got hared, shouted “220, 221 whatever it takes!” and got another 5 minute lead. Personally I think they planned it, those crafty bastards, to bring the pack back together.
More woods, shiggy, creeks, briars, and lovely trails that hadn't seen PineLakers in forever (and a day). Say it ain’t so, GI Joe, the powerline trails over by the wastewater treatment plant off Winters Chapel Road? Ahhhh, Norfucker would be proud.
And go figure that we spy the On-In behind the shopping center which houses that legend known as Scorpio’s. For the life of me, I don’t know why we didn’t have the On-On there.
Down-downs proceeded after much gnashing of teeth because the hares only had one bimbo and two cars. So in their infinite wisdom, and I praise them highly for this, the beer made it to the end, but not the bags. One trip and several beers later, the bags arrive just about the time the rest of the pack filtered in.
The offenses were many, and the beer did flow, but once again, my little yellow sheet does not list all who drank. So I’ll wing it: Numbnuts, Furry Balls, and Black Hole of Goa visited us from far away places; David Goff was our virgin du jour; Cums First and Too Dumb to Die were too-long-between-hashes; Hide the Salami and Niplets drank ‘cause they came without Size Doesn’t Matter; Dipstick graced us with his presence from AH4; Shiggy Pitts stepped another year closer to his grave; and the hares!
Blatant Self-Promotion of an Upcoming Hash
The Quest for the Holy Grail
Saturday, September 30, 2000
Sir Tripod, Lady Ouch
& their humble servant,
Patsy, um, er, Rat’s Ass